Anger management; A crash course.
by Franimal
Summary: Draco finally looses it (or does he do this often?) Rating for some cussing and destruction.


  
  
  


Hi, it's the author! It's been a while since I have written anything. (Here is where I change stuff because this is the 'improved version') Ectra, enjoy!   
Good Reading   
And so I wave my wand   


----------- ~*`,*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*   


Draco swept into his common room, green robes flaring. In a sense of the word it was his, no one would dispute it if he said so. Thus it was with averted glances and quick shuffling that the tide of Slythrins moved out of the way of their supposed better. All the unhappy, bitter conversation stopped in his presence. He was flushed and his energy seemed to reach out with sharp spikes. No one wanted to provoke him more.   
He moved purposefully toward his room, not even bothering to send any sarcasm toward the few people who didn't move fast enough and were in his eye sight. Pansy sensing the danger didn't chase him with her usual forceful simpering and fawning. It was just as well, who knows what he might have done to her once he peeled out of her embrace.   
Mounting the stairs Draco turned, "Make sure that no one disturbs me,I have important business to attend to. That includes you two thick ogres." He sneered at Crabbe and Goyle, then he turned and quickly disappeared up the stairs. As he turned to shut the door to his room a familiar voice wafted up from the common room "What the hell is his problem?!" There was a muffled noise and then Pansy said no more.   
Draco shut the door with a solid thump, turned the lock and set a privacy ward in place. He then dug around under his bed, coming out with a small writing set in Slythrin colors. Setting it on his bed, he hastily pulled out a piece of paper and began to scribble furiously, his normally grandiose handwriting becoming ugly and squashed.

It's so hard to articulate   
a feeling of general contempt   
the urge to pin it down   
dissect and ascribe sensations to certain attributes   
clouds an already cluttered vision   
tangled wires vibrate   
your friends, everything sullied   
distortion increasing with each discordant sound uttered.   
They tell you how,   
energy ringed tunnel vision.   
Focusing on a microcosm within a microcosm   
ad infinity   
encompassing everything without ever seeing everything at once   
general contempt   
become contempt of every individual piece at once

The quill trembled in Draco's pale sweaty hand. Anger filled him to the brim. "That damn Potter! My father is an idiot! He knows nothing about what it's like to have to live up to that image of perfection!" A new surge of red threatened to take him away.He clenched his hands so tight that he imagined he could feel the blood beginning to trickle from where his finger nails met his flesh. Snapping out of it Draco looked at his hand in suprise; Green ink poured from his fingertips as the quill gave its last dying shudders. In his rage Draco had been thinking of crushing a shrunken Harry. Laying crumpled in his hand; it seems that his quill had suffered the fate of his imaginary enemy.   
"Bloody hell! That was a good quill! I spent three days casting an undetectable forgery charm on it!" Draco's hand spasmed in rage again.   
"FUCK!" The now useless object sailed across the room to land in a broken heap.   
"He makes me fudge up even when he's nowhere near me!" He picked up the box holding the writing set and hurled it at the wall. It broke with a satisfying crash sending paper fluttering around the room like startled birds in flight. It felt good to break something.   
He looked for something else to break, his eyes settles on Crabbe's wooden chest. He paused momentarily, "Screw Crabbe!" He began to wrestle with the chest. Trying vainly to lift it in the air and throw it like he did the box. It was simply too big for him. "What am I bloody doing?!? This is a waste of time!" He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wand   
"Rumpere!" He screamed at the offending luggage and it obliged, erupting into a million splinters with the sound of a small thunderclap. Burning with fierce determination Draco then set about destroying the room in the same fashion.Gone were the closet doors, all personal articles belonging to anyone else, the dressers, and the bathroom door. Only extreme presence of mind kept him from turning the floor into splinters like everything else.   
After eliminating most of the beds he turned to his own. He hesitated when he saw the paper sitting quietly where he left it. Angrily he snatched it up and took it over to the window in order to see it better. Opening the glass he held the paper up to the sunlight. A slight breeze ruffled the broken piles on the floor.   
The paper held tightly in his hand, Draco examined the fruits of his anger.The ink was a little smudged and his handwriting wasn't up to his normal standard. He stood contemplating when a small sigh caught his attention.   
Seeing that he was looking in it's direction, one of the few remaining objects in the room started to speak.   
"My, my, my! Who kicked your puppy, hmmmm?" The mirror dubbed 'that damn mirror' said taking advantage of the momentary lull in the destruction.   
"Shut up you damn mirror or I will be breaking you next!" Draco snarled Setting down the paper, he turned. With his hand held low he walked threateningly up to the mirror. He prodded it sharply with the point of his wand.   
The mirror chose to remain silent.   
Draco turned quickly on his heel to retrieve the paper that lay momentarily forgotten on the window sill. He moved toward it and then redoubled his efforts when he saw what was happening.   
"No!" An errant breeze picked up his little rant, the paper curled over and flew out the window. "Damn!" Cursing whatever malfunction within himself that made him want to write down his feelings,Draco lunged toward the window his hand outstretched. It was too late. The paper, caught on an updraft began to climb in the air. It was way too far above him now. For a split second Draco considered grabbing his broom and chasing after it. "No. Father wouldn't like to hear about this and if I go flying around in broad daylight chasing a piece of paper someone will say something." His anger momentarily deflated by the thought of his father's reaction to what he would call a 'temper tantrum'. He wouldn't send a Howler, Draco was sure of that but that didn't mean he would escape punishment. He was expecting something from his father soon anyway, he didn't need to make it worse. Soberly Draco muttered "No, no, no. Can't have him catching us acting like a three year old. Especially after what happened today." He looked at the ruins of the room and whispered "Redintegro."   
Exhausted now, Draco leaned out the window lost in quiet thought. He hated loosing any piece of himself. He prayed that no one would find what he wrote. He seemed to be in a little luck. The last he saw of it, it appeared to be going toward the Forbidden Forest. Hopefully it would be destroyed and would never come back to haunt him.

----------- ~*`,*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*

The paper curled over and over. Free as it was from the confines of Malfoy's room it was still a captive, subject to the whims and fancies of the wind. It found it's self soaring higher and higher. Bouncing to and fro on the currents swarming around the great towers of the castle it was drawn into an open window. Drifting aimlessly for a few moments, it settled down with finality on a great desk. Feeling at home amidst the other papers it waited.

----------- ~*`,*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*

Dumbledore ambled into his office. "What a day Fawkes! I figured that the Gryffindors would beat Slythrin but that was almost comical!" Fawkes sent Dumbledore a look of amusement. The game that day had been fast and firmly in favor of the Gryffindors. Malfoy never even had a chance, Potter saw the snitch in seconds and his broom was decidedly superior to everyone's. It was a great sweep for the Gryffindors and a big loss for the Slytherins. They would be hard pressed now to win the cup.

Tapping his wand gently on a little kettle Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and poured himself a cup of tea. Taking a sip he swallowed thoughtfully. The lemon drop in his mouth reacted strangely with his chi. "Not bad at all." he thought to himself."I need to remember that" Patting his pockets he pulled out a snarled, chewed on quill. He snatched a little piece of light green paper off his desk. Wetting the quill in his mouth he lovingly wrote in bright gold "Lemon drops most excellent in chi tea!" This was for sure going in the wonderful things about lemon drops list. Getting up, the paper still in his hand, he whispered "Patefacereopertum." to a painting of an antique filing cabinet.

He insisted that he kept the painting of the cabinet for sentimental purposes which was partially true, but no one had ever guessed the real meaning behind that. He grasped the handle of the drawer labeled L-P and pulled gently. It popped out filled with folders containing years of information. Anything that Dumbledore had ever had a personal interest in was contained in these files. "Ummm yes... Potter, P,O,N, M, Lemon drop." He muttered out loud. He turned the paper around so that it would face the right direction in the file; something he hadn't noticed before caught his eye.

"What's this?" He adjusted his funny half moon spectacles and looked closer. He read out loud to himself."It's so hard to articulate a feeling of general contempt...... increasing with each discordant sound uttered ....... at once general contempt become contempt of every individual piece at once....... oh my." Sadly he looked at the green ink, the writing looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't figure it out. Sighing he stood still. Concentrating on the feeling he reached out to the paper with his spirit. After a long couple of minutes had passed a familiar sensation of anger and frustration washed over him.It was weaker in the paper but he had the same feeling whenever he saw Malfoy looking at Potter. Carefully, keeping the green writing facing forward he flipped back to M, he put the paper in it's proper place and shut the cabinet. Whispering "Obscuropertum" ( it wouldn't work properly if one shouted) Dumbledore turned back to his now tepid tea. He could see what was truly in Draco, he just wished the others could as well. "He can't hide from himself forever." Dumbledore pondered his statement, sipping his tea once more.

----------- ~* `, *~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*~`#,~*

All of Harry Potterdom belongs in the magnificent head of herself, JK Rowling. I own nothing. :( *snif* But that's ok!   
The 'spells' I use are entirely made up, mostly latin, literal translation of what the spell is supposed to do. I cheated. ;p

P.S. this is my new and improved version, I edited some redundancy and played with minor syntax. :) I also decided the font was a little too small so I made it two points bigger. I like it better now but I am sure I will find something wrong with it as soon as I get it uploaded. Ha! I am planning to write a sequel... thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed, I'm glad that I didn't do anything too glaringly wrong because you all seem to like it...... or are you just being *really* nice!?! J/K!!!!! I am happy...... see! :)   
P.P.S."He makes me fudge up..." Me poking fun at the minister of magic (who like most bureaucrats, irritates me)


End file.
